


The New Year's Eve Night Shift

by cmk418



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean's working New Year's Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Year's Eve Night Shift

12:30 AM. He could see the lights in McManus’ office even though the blinds were drawn. Why the hell hadn’t Tim gone home hours ago? Found a date? Had a few beers at the bar downtown in the hopes of getting laid?

12:30 AM. The rest of the cellblock had quieted down for the night. In Beecher’s cell, two shadows merged together in the semi-dark. _Good for them_ , Murphy thought, eyes flashing again to McManus’ office.

12:31 AM. Johnson was officially late coming back from break. Not that Sean had anything on his agenda when the other C.O. returned. Other than to tell Tim to pack up and go home.

12:32 AM. The blinds in McManus’ office seemed to shift slightly. Sean could imagine him standing there, watching the men in his unit sleep.

12:33 AM. The blinds in McManus’ office fell closed. Sean shook his head, shaking himself out of his trance.

12:34 AM. Murphy spied Johnson on the security monitor, looking up at the camera, annoyed. Murphy pressed a button on the control panel, activating the gate. Murphy glanced once more toward Tim’s office.

_If he’s still here when I’m done with my rounds, then I’ll stop in. Not before then._

Sean passed Johnson on the stairs, making a circular motion with his arm. Johnson nodded and continued up to the guard station.

Sean walked past the cells on the first level, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Most nights, there might be crying from the newcomers, the occasional fist against the glass from some asshole trying to work off some excess steam, or the scuffling sounds of either fighting or fucking in progress – which usually stopped as soon as he shone his flashlight through the glass. Some nights there was screaming which chilled him to the bone and made him regret taking the night shift. And some nights, there was very little sound at all.

Those nights were bad for a different reason. They left him alone with his thoughts. How could he stand this? Night after night. Periods of nothing punctuated by one or two moments that got his adrenaline pumping and gave him a story he could talk about the next day. Tensions were so bad right now that even the silence had a sort of electric hum to it, as though one spark could set it off. And he had to stand nearby, always keeping watch, ready to put the fire out before it could catch hold.

He wound his way up the stairs and past the upper level cells. Very quiet. A whole cell block either asleep or quietly writing down resolutions for the coming millennium. The year 2000. Thank god the computer systems hadn’t gone down. Hell, the lights hadn’t even blinked when the bell sounded midnight. He didn’t want to think about that too much, what could have happened, what they weren’t truly prepared for.

He didn’t want to think about this either – his feet nearing the door of Tim’s office, as Sean rapidly threw away stupid resolutions about being honest with his best friend. The status quo had worked for over thirty years – why throw it away now?

The door suddenly swung open. “Come in and toast the New Year with me,” Tim whispered.

Sean glanced toward the guard post. Johnson was absorbed in a phone conversation and didn’t spare Murphy a glance.

“I probably shouldn’t drink,” said Sean, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind him. All the lights in the office except the desk lamp were off. “You shouldn’t either, especially if you’re heading home soon.”

“I’m not. We’ve got the marathon of Bowl games tomorrow, remember?”

“Right. You’re still up for that?”

“I’m up for a lot of things,” Tim said, suddenly too close for Sean to think coherently.

“You should… you shouldn’t…”

“You already said I shouldn’t drink.”

“…be here right now.”

Sean would have sworn Tim looked a little hurt by that comment. “You’ve never said anything about me staying late before.”

“But it’s New Year’s Eve.”

“New Year’s Day, actually.”

“But there’s bars and girls and kissing traditions and, god, Tim, why are you here?”

“Because,” Tim said with some finality.

“Oh my god, are you five?” Sean reached for the bottle of champagne on Tim’s desk and took a healthy swig.

“That third thing.”

Sean took another drink from the bottle. Third thing. What third thing? He’d only asked one question – how could there be a third thing? Sean mentally backtracked through the conversation. _Kissing traditions._ Of course. Tim was planning to wait here until Diane came in tomorrow morning so he could ring in the New Year properly. Or Gloria. Or maybe Sister Pete.

Yeah, this wasn’t the year/decade/century/millennium to…

Tim’s hand curled around Sean’s neck, pulling Sean closer. “Wait,” said Sean. “Are you drunk?”

“You’re selling yourself short with that question.”

“Because I’m a few seconds away from taking advantage here.”

“I really wish you would.”

“This isn’t just a New Year’s thing?”

“I could wait until tomorrow if it makes you feel better.”

“We’re watching Bowl games tomorrow.”

“No. We’re watching Bowl games today.”

“Right.”

“Unless we don’t.”

“You don’t want me to come over?”

Tim took a step back, raising both hands, then ran them through his thinning hair. “Jesus, Sean.”

“Sorry. It just… I just… you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I should probably…”

“You should,” Tim agreed, all the while closing the distance between him and Sean. “But one more toast to the New Year.”

Sean moved to sit on the couch by the window. “You toast. I’m still on duty.”

“I hate to drink alone.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, right.” Tim poured himself another glass of champagne. “And that’s what makes this so fucked up. You know me. Better than anyone.”

“And I still like you. That is kinda fucked up,” Sean said with a grin.

“Asshole,” said Tim, sinking into the couch next to Sean. “But if you know me so well, then…?”

Sean peeked out through the blinds. Johnson was still on the phone at the control desk. He let the blinds fall back into place, then leaned over and dropped a quick kiss on Tim’s lips. It was so fast that Tim didn’t have time to move.

“Happy New Year, Timmy.” Sean got up from the couch.

“Hold. The Fuck. On,” ordered Tim, dropping the plastic champagne flute on the floor as he reached for Sean’s hand. “Shit.”

“I’ve got to get back.”

“No,” said Tim, insinuating his body between Sean and the door.

It was ridiculous, Sean knew. Tim knew that Sean could get past him if he wanted to without too much problem. Idiotic, too, had Sean been anybody else, Tim would probably be looking at another sexual harassment suit. Yet here he stood with Tim holding his hand and looking fifty kinds of pathetic.

“What is it?”

“I just… I just don’t want another year to go by without telling you how much you mean to me.”

“Okay.”

“That’s all.”

“Okay. Thanks, Tim,” Sean put his hand on Tim’s forearm and squeezed. It was both a gesture of friendship and a signal for Tim to move.

“’Night,” said Tim, stepping away from the door.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Later today.”

“Right.” He should leave the room. He should have left the room ten minutes ago. Or maybe twenty. He shouldn’t have gone in at all. That’s it. Going in was the mistake. He should have just done his rounds and gone back to the guard tower and let Tim go home. That’s what he should have done. Or not even come to work this evening. A lot of people had off – and why the hell was Tim invading his personal space again?

“Happy New Year, Sean.” It was a capital-S Serious kiss. Lips and tongue and the rasp of day-old stubble. Never letting up, not that that surprised Sean. Why shouldn’t Tim kiss like he did everything else in his life? He was relentless.

He was also grabbing Sean’s ass. Not that Sean was going to complain about that. Or about Tim’s erection, pressing against his thigh.

Well, something had to be done about that.

Sean broke the kiss, then stepped back and dropped to his knees.

“Um… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Sean looked up at Tim and gave him a tiny smile. “Been wanting to since the night of my sixteenth birthday.”

“God, Sean, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Beats the fuck out of me,” Sean eased Tim’s zipper down one tooth at a time. _Thirty years and he can wait a few more sec– oh hell._

“Oh hell, what?” asked Tim.

Shit! He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Just hang on a second.”

“Trying. But if you keep brushing your knuckles over my dick, I’m not gonna last.”

“I can stop.”

“Don’t you dare. I’ll think about something else. What would Mukada think about?”

 _Alvarez_ was the unspoken response that immediately flashed in Sean’s mind. “There’s actually a Catholic holy day on New Year’s. Maybe he’ll have a service for the Catholic inmates.”

“Not real likely since – have you changed your mind down there?”

“Your zipper is broken.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Tim said. “Tell me you got it up again.”

“Nah. I’ve lost the mood,” Sean deadpanned.

“Thirty years. We could have been doing this for thirty years.”

Sean pushed himself to his feet and sighed. “We have been doing this for thirty years.”

“I suppose. But the rest of it… we can try and make a go of it, can’t we?”

“Sure, Tim. But let’s wait until tomorrow.”

“Today. Come over early. I’ll make some breakfast and then we’ll watch some football.”

“Or we won’t,” said Sean with a grin, leaning over to brush Tim’s lips with his own. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

1:27 AM. The lights in McManus’ office finally went out.

1:30 AM. _Only five and a half hours to go._


End file.
